Sam Allardyce does not really do regrets but the presence of one particularly headline-grabbing passage in his recent autobiography threatens to prove the exception to this rule. Should Rafael Benítez’s Newcastle United beat Sunderland at St James’ Park on Sunday the visiting manager will be regarded as having been well and truly bitten on the bottom.

Last autumn, when the excerpt in question was causing a mini stir as “Big Sam” climbed the bestseller lists, no one could possibly have imagined that he and Benítez would now be engaged in desperate missions to relegate each other. Fourth- and second--bottom of the Premier League respectively, they appreciate survival will almost certainly be achieved at the other’s expense.

At times this week the north-east has been bathed in balmy spring sunshine but there is likely to be a distinct frostiness in the technical area when, in their first home game under Benítez, Newcastle face Allardyce’s Sunderland in probably the most important Tyne-Wear derby to date.

Expect awkward handshakes and minimal eye contact – and not merely because Allardyce’s book aired the damning opinion that Liverpool’s famous 2005 Champions League final comeback against Milan – the pinnacle of Benítez’s career – had “nowt to do with” their then manager and was, instead, all about Steven Gerrard.

It probably explains why Steve McClaren’s otherwise cheerful successor offered a wintry smile when the imminent reunion with his old adversary was mentioned. “There is history between us but I don’t think it’s important for the future,” Benítez said. “I’m professional, I want to win the game and hopefully the players will be the most important thing about it.”

He and Allardyce have spent much of the past decade engaged in a feud which began with the broken nose suffered by Liverpool’s Sami Hyypia in a game against Bolton in 2004 and swiftly turned into an enduring clash of football philosophies. At its height Allardyce portrayed the Spaniard as precious and snobbish, while Benítez suggested his rival’s gamesmanship and sometimes wince-inducingly direct approach was damaging the game’s soul.

If “Big Sam” was never quite John Beck – the former Cambridge United manager cum high priest of the long-ball game – and invariably leavened things by throwing the odd Youri Djorkaeff or Jay-Jay Okocha into Bolton’s mix, his hallmark gameplans were aggressive and, at times, fundamentalist in their directness and set-piece dependence.

These days the once trademark tactics, which during his unhappy days in charge of Newcastle frequently involved long balls aimed at Michael Owen’s throat and passes crashed into the corners, are much modified. Recognising the need to play to the strengths of their diminutive lone striker Jermain Defoe, Sunderland represent the continuance of an evolution in Allardyce’s style which really started taking root at West Ham. Granted, Sunderland still possess a certain physical edge but the fact that Yann M’Vila, their midfield enforcer, has been booked once in 30 games speaks volumes.

“Time has passed,” Allardyce said on Friday. “The game has moved forward. There are different approaches. Players are a lot different now. We all change as time moves on.” At 61, he acknowledges he is mellower, less brash and, frankly, nothing like as chippy as back in the day. “All that stuff with Rafa is long gone,” he said. “Our conflict was mind games; I was into that then. I had a chat with Rafa when he was at Chelsea and I was at West Ham and it was fine. No problem. Water under the bridge.”

Or at least it was until the autobiography’s publication. The two have not spoken since but Benítez, coaching Real Madrid when it came out, sounded decidedly unimpressed. “Do you know how many trophies Sam Allardyce has won,’ he said. “His opinion does not have a lot of value.”

For more than a decade assorted incendiary cameos involving the pair punctuated the Premier League landscape as Allardyce variously led Bolton, Newcastle – where he is less than fondly remembered – and Blackburn into battle against Liverpool.

When, in 2009, Fernando Torres scored two of four goals as Rovers were thrashed at Anfield, Benítez seemed to indicate the match was finished as a contest but later said he had merely been joking with Xabi Alonso. Unconvinced, an outraged Allardyce enlisted support from his old friend Sir Alex Ferguson, who duly delighted in condemning such “disrespect”.

“Here was a trendy foreign manager with all his smart ideas getting beat by some oik from the Midlands,” Allardyce nevertheless wrote in his autobiography. “Benítez wouldn’t talk to me at all and that just made it all the better when we won.” Not that such victories were overly frequent. In 12 meetings between the pair, Liverpool won seven games and Allardyce’s teams three.

The latter may have bristled when Benítez sarcastically suggested that he believed Barcelona to be considering “copying Sam Allardyce’s football and role model behaviour” but he now believes he and his new north-east neighbour have quite a bit in common.

“We had our conflict, we had our differences but, as a coach, he’s up there with the best in Europe, he brings Newcastle aura and experience,” he said. “I played mind games with everyone and found it very entertaining but we’re probably quite alike. We both have a pragmatic approach to using our squads, so you could say we’re quite similar. I was slightly surprised when he went to Newcastle but he’s obviously addicted – like me.”

Given that both men’s quest for control led them to insist on “manager” rather than “head coach” titles and that they share a common interest in forensic, hi-tech statistical analysis, the case for not merely a permanent ceasefire but some unlikely male bonding seems overwhelming.

Or perhaps not. “In terms of technology there could be some similarities,” Benítez said, rather doubtfully and, perhaps significantly, folding his arms before speaking. “But, after that, we’re different.”